


It

by thefilthiestpiglet



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bad gender definitions, Castration, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, period-typical conceptions of gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/thefilthiestpiglet
Summary: It was turned into HYDRA's weapon
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	It

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a fill for this trashmeme prompt: [https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2271.html?thread=4617695#cmt4617695 ](https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2271.html?thread=4617695#cmt4617695).
> 
> Warning: Bucky has a very traditional concept of gender. In this fic, he was castrated, which contributed in part to him identifying as "it" and "not a man." Which is ... not a great way to define things, Bucky. :/ I've left it as-is, because Bucky's current self-identity is important to it.

“... longevity, less aggression, less mood swings…” Bucky blinked awake, groggy from the gas that put him under.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Zola stopped his explanation to the HYDRA commander to smile at Bucky. “The operation is all done now. As you can see, you have a brand new arm, courtesy of HYDRA.” Something whirred on his left, and there was an explosion of sharp pain in his skull. Slowly, incomprehensibly, a metal arm came into view. *His* arm.

Zola smiled again and adjusted his glasses. “Oh yes, while you were under, we took the liberty of cleaning up down there, removed some unnecessary parts. I’m afraid you’re not a man anymore.” Zola patted Bucky’s shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, you will hardly miss them.” Then, turning, he returned to his prior conversation with the commander. “I have designed a series of tests if you want to put it through its paces, sir, though you may wish to have the techs hose it down and feed it first.”

It was only when a sharp spray of cold water was hitting him in the back that Bucky he realized that Zola was talking about him. Tentatively, he reached down with his metal hand and touched *there*. 

“It”, indeed.

At least the tears brought it some warmth under the cold spray.

\----

It was lying on the narrow bed of its cell when they came in: two women, one 160cm tall and thin, the other 155cm and plump.

"Oh great, it's awake." The taller one eyed its leg splints. She was the one who had proposed the experiment of applying increasing weight until they snapped.

She frowned at the narrow bed. "Roll yourself onto the ground," she orders. It pushes with its left arm, the robot one, and landed face down. "Ugh, face up, I mean." It complied. Its legs throbbed from the impact, but the pain was negligible.

"Now, let's see if I can turn it on..." She reached down and tweaked its nipples. Its instrument activated accordingly.

"Wait, he doesn't have..." the other woman finally spoke up.

"*It* had that nuisance removed forever ago” The tall one said dismissively as she hiked up her skirt and moved to straddle the instrument. “Which is why this is so much fun -- don't have to worry about semen and getting pregnant. Plus it's got perfect health."

\-----

It knew that its arm was a marvel of engineering. The scientists would run their tests and diagnostics, and send it out to the field. 

It was always successful in the mission, although the accolades always went to its handlers and the scientists. 

It sat in the lab, hooked to a feeding tube, and heard the sound of their celebrations filter in from the main room.

They might later requisition its use for the party, if the carousing went into the night and the alcohol ran freely. They had no use for it but for the time being, so it flexed its arm and did sums in its head.

\-----

It was always used for HYDRA initiation, because the new recruits could get a bit finicky about fucking men.

It knelt at the center of the circle, not particularly caring about the nervous tittering around it as the Handler lifted its instrument to show the smoothness underneath. “Fucking the Asset doesn’t make you gay,” the Handler was saying. “I mean, if using a fleshlight makes you gay, then that’s pretty much every guy on the planet, right?” The crowd chuckled nervously, and then one recruit stepped up, fumbling with his pants. “If that’s the case, Commander, I’d like to sample its mouth.”

It opened its mouth and took the cock in one swallow, eliciting murmurs of excitement nearby. A few more bobs of its head, and someone was pushing it down and nudging at its back entrance. The asset complied -- it had its orders: ensure that each of the new recruits ejaculates at least three times over the course of the evening.

\-----

“Wipe it.”

“Send it out for the mission.”

“Clean it up and put it away.”

\-----

It knew it was more tool than human. There was its arm, designed by HYDRA to fight, to kill. There were the skillsets and trigger words embedded in its brain, rendering it their most effective and obedient weapon. There was its body, enhanced by serum, strong enough to kick someone to death, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Captain America. And there was that thing between its legs, able to harden at their command, and deliver pain or pleasure however it was directed.

But somehow, there was still a part of it that was human enough to resist everything else. So that when the Captain fell, that human bit went against all of the programming in its brain and directed its body to dive down and its arm to reach out to the captain. To rescue Steve. 

_Always needed his fucking help, pulling him out from fights that he can't win._

It spent some time looking at Steve on the riverbank. Maybe it should stay with Steve, protect him like it used to.

Back when it was a "he".

_Steve's lips against his. In a tent. In the rain._

The arm, the thing between its legs, and the words in its head was proof that it was merely a tool masquerading as human.

Bucky stepped back, turned away. 

\-----

It took several months to wipe the trigger words from existence -- it had eliminated the handlers and tracked down every copy of the red book. Then it ran into a helpful woman named Nakia in Korea, who led it to an excitable girl in a hidden valley near Kenya. Over the course of another month, Shuri carefully removed the trigger words in its brain, and gave it a place to rest. It told Shuri that it no longer served any specific organizations, but if they ever needed help, it would respond to their summons. 

With a clear head, it felt more human. Finally, it turned its steps back toward Steve.

\-----

“It.”

“What?” Stark paused in the middle of the joke where Steve and it were both implied to be contemporaries of Abraham Lincoln. 

Bucky rolled its eyes. “I’m not a ‘he’ anymore, I’m an ‘it.’”

Stark looked even more confused, but thankfully Banner took over, looking down on the intake papers that would officially allow it to stay with Steve. In the gender column, it had crossed out both M and F. “Are you saying, Bucky, that you’d like us to refer to you as ‘it’ as the third person pronoun?”

Bucky nodded. Banner shrugged, taking it in stride like the people of Wakanda did.

Steve frowned. “Is it because of the robot arm?”

“Sure.” Bucky shrugged. “Also, they removed my testicles at the same time. I'm currently more robot than man.”

Steve choked beside it, and Stark abruptly stood up and started rummaging behind a bar, muttering about gender identity and promising to send Bucky pamphlets. It frowned. “Do you need to see proof?”

“Um, no, that’s quite all right.” Banner looked back at the paperwork. “I think that’s it for now. You just need to sign here.”

\-------

That night, after dinner and watching a baseball game, Steve turned off the TV and said quietly, “It, huh?”

Bucky nodded. It had expected this conversation. In fact, had a similar one with Shuri’s brother.

Steve swallowed, and said softly, “So you don’t think of yourself as a person? Could have fooled me.”

Bucky considered the evidence -- Steve had seen it laugh and make jokes. It had hugged Steve. Its insistence probably didn’t make sense to him. Finally, it sighed. “For a long time, I wasn’t treated like a person. So I didn’t feel like one.” Steve made a small noise beside it, so it reached over and took Steve’s hand. “But now, I know I have the memories of a person. And I control my own actions. I can choose to make dinner and watch TV with you. They don’t have any hold over me now, I’ve made sure of that.” It would not have returned to Steve otherwise.

Steve frowned. “Then why ‘it’?”

“Because they’ve changed me, Steve. In ways that can’t be undone.” It smiled, bittersweet. “I want a way to remind myself of that, and to remind others. I was once a man, and then I was turned into a thing, and now I am what I am. They called me ‘it’, and gave me the arm. I live with both. Why should I reject one but not the other, if I carry the scars of both?”

Steve considered this, then nodded. “All right, I can respect that.”

Bucky smiled. “Now whose turn is it to do the dishes?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, is Tony going to send Bucky lots of pamphlets about gender identity and other pronoun options? Yes. Is Bucky going to choose to stay as "it"? I really don't know. I feel like it sees it more as a larger system of dehumanization and less about masculinity. Do I personally want Bucky to reconsider its stance and maybe address/recognize those issues in other ways? Yes.
> 
> Little did I know when I came across a wip titled "castration fic???" that I'd end up fighting with Bucky about the value of its balls. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
